FRIDAY — As I stood in the packed Silver Dollar, sweat dripping from my clothes, my ears ringing with endless, catchy hooks, I tried to figure out why Hooded Fang aren't one of the giant legends in Canadian indie rock. And I still really have no idea. Their last two albums have taken them to new heights of awesome, both of them boasting that rarest of tracklists: one filled with potential hits pretty much from beginning to end. Indie rock blends with surf rock blends with the kind of stuff you could do the twist to at a sock hop. (Seriously. I swear to god it's Polaris Prize worthy shit; they've made my ballot two years in a row. Go. Download them. Download them now.) And live? Well, live it all gets turned up a notch: faster, harder, louder, more distorted. The audience, packed into the awkward space in front the stage, throbbed and danced and sang along last night. All sweat and smiles.

Hooded Fang's reputation is growing fast. A couple of years ago we saw them perform at the Drake Underground in front of a sparse crowd; now they're ramming the Dollar full of people on their second straight night playing the festival. So maybe they are on the way to joining Canada's indie rock royalty. But for now, I think I like this best: getting to see them play in a tiny club on a hot summer night, with people who love them as much as I do.